


Cult Cult

by Alcoholic_kangaroo, totally_friendly_max_content



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Betrayal, Blood, Cults, M/M, Manipulation, Psychological Torture, Sex Talk, Virginity, bone breakage, opportunist adults, pedophile!David, pedophile!daniel, tags to be added as the fic continues, will be messed up in places
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcoholic_kangaroo/pseuds/Alcoholic_kangaroo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/totally_friendly_max_content/pseuds/totally_friendly_max_content
Summary: Camp Campbell is taken over by a religious cult obsessed with children's purity.  David desperately does what he can to protect Max even if that means joining the cult.





	1. Child's Play

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a collab between me and totally_friend_max_content that started from one simple idea that had nothing at all to do with what it turned into. Yeah. I'll be doing chapter's from David's POV and she'll be doing Max's.
> 
> Oh, also, I remade me Tumblr. Yes, I was purged. It's now alcoholic--kangaroo (I just added an extra dash because I'm lazy.)

Ever since we first instituted the weekly movie night our rowdy little bunch of campers has seemed to calm down a considerable amount. It's the zombie effect, I suppose. Staring at a flat glass screen long enough until your eyes glaze over and your brain turns to mush inside your skull.

But I get it.  Just as much as city kids need to get outside and enjoy the fresh air once in a while, my kids, cut off from most modern technology, need a little screen time to unwind. Even I, loving nature and being out outside as I do, need a reminder that I’m not living in the Bronze Age, or even just the 1950s. We live in the age of technology. Where even the most remote and isolated indigenous tribes have seen the occasional airplane or helicopter fly overhead.

I may not be as addicted to my phone as some people out there. I’ve always made a conscious effort to put it down when occupied in other ways (I can’t believe those heathens that text in movie theaters!) and I often seek out strangers to talk to at the quaint little coffee shop I frequent back home. But knowing it’s there is a comfort. Readily available, tucked into the pocket of my hiking pack where it can easily be pulled out when I need to look up medical advice if a kid suddenly starts vomiting up purple slime. More valuable than any old first aid guide book. And at the end of a long day, especially a hot, sunny one that drains the energy from my body, it’s nice just to hang out with Gwen in our cabin and watch something mind-numbingly dumb together on her laptop.

I’d never let the campers rot their minds out with that junk. The idea of showing the kids some trashy reality TV show is more horrifying than that of showing them actual horror movies. And they do really seem to enjoy horror. So why not? None of the parents specifically mentioned not allowing their kids to watch them and Gwen does seem to have an unending supply of scary movies at hand.

Tonight is an exceptionally good night for movie night. Gwen and I didn’t plan it that way, we always hold movie night on Wednesdays, but outside the rain is steadily splattering against the cabin’s roof. Comforting in the way the sound of falling rain is always comforting, as long as you’re inside somewhere warm and dry. 

Back home, not Camp Campbell but the bedroom I sleep in the other nine months of the year, I have a sound machine to help me sleep at night. It’s a gift from my old college roommate, though really more of a necessity to stop me from tossing and turning all night and creaking the legs of our bunk bed. He was a nice guy, really, I can’t blame him for just wanting a good night’s sleep.  I just can never seem to get used to the sounds of civilization again after spendings weeks or months out in the wild and without some sort of noise to distract me I’ll lay away for hours every night, staring at the artificial stars glued to my ceiling, wishing I was lying under the real stars somewhere quiet and secluded where the air smells like pine.

There are two rain settings on that cheap old machine. Rain-on-a-tin-roof, and forest rain. But neither of those settings come close to this. The human ear can tell the natural from the unnatural, no matter how well-intentioned the effort. 

I think it's partly the repetition and partly the perfection. If you lay there long enough and listen you will notice the same pattern repeating over and over again until you memorize it more thoroughly than the tune of your favorite song. And you'll notice that the sound is even in volume like you're somehow able to only record the sound of water hitting a hard surface immediately in front of you and block out everything else in the background.

But the rain tonight is not like that. The loudest droplets are those pattering against the log ceilings and walls and against the glass windows. But they’re accompanied by the compact thudding of water against dirt and the more delicate, cushioned echo of rain hitting leaves and grass. It’s the sound of nature. Not something artificially piped through a pair of cheap gray-plastic speakers.

I can't help but take a moment to watch the rain, reveling in the cozy warmness of the cabin. It's summer but I can feel a chill already creeping in through the little cracks and creases the cabin. Like a fog drifting down an empty street. This isn't a humid summer shower but a gusty thunderstorm, the wind already starting to whistle through the treetops.

I wonder if any of the kids will be scared. Have we had a big storm this year yet? I don’t think so. Nothing with thunder and lightning. I should have some of the more timid sit closer to me during movie night. Nerris and Dolph, maybe Harrison, though he doesn’t seem the type to be scared of something like thunder. Maybe when it’s compacted by the shrieking on the television.

Hopefully, the roof doesn’t leak. Cameron said he would fix it after the disaster last summer but, well, I can’t say my confidence in him is at its highest right now. I might need to go visit Quartermaster for some buckets, just in case. And maybe, maybe I should start a fire in the fireplace. That’d be a nice touch, wouldn’t it? I think the kids would be excited by the prospect of having a fire inside instead of outside for once. I can’t help but smile, thinking of my kids huddled up in the glow of flickering flames as if we were living out some Norman Rockwell painting. If I keep an eye on it they could sleep in front of the fireplace like in one of those feel-good Christmas movies where the kids always fall asleep waiting for Santa.

They always sleep inside the cafeteria on movie night anyway. Gwen’s not a big fan of it, she thinks that boys and girls shouldn’t sleep in the same room, but I think she’s just being a big old worry wart. Why should we force the campers to trudge back to their tents in the dark? Especially on a night like tonight where, even if does stop raining, they’ll end up tracking mud and wet grass into their tents. They all stay up so late on movie nights, they look forward to them so. To make children feel their way through the forest in such darkness...

Alright, I have to admit to myself, part of the reason for the weekly sleepovers does have to do with them being afraid of the dark. I know it’s not just because they’re too tired to walk back to their tents or, as Neil claims, it’s just more convenient to wake up where breakfast is already waiting for them. They make up excuses for why they want to sleep together, piled up on top of each other like a pile of blind newborn puppies, but I know the truth. It’s the images of claw-handed men and women with black voids for eyes that haunt their sight when they close their own eyes to sleep.

It’s fine. I don’t mind supervising them throughout the night. It’s a good feeling. Like I’m a big, friendly guard dog, waiting beside the door all night long as my charges slumber under my watchful gaze. Movie night isn’t just an excuse to watch movies, it’s an excuse to have a sleepover with all that sleepovers entail. It gives the kids something to look forward to all week. If they want to stay up late gossiping and giggling and telling each other secrets a few hours later than usual I think a nightmare or two is worth it.

Gwen never stays the whole time. She stays to seven, or eight, sometimes later if she wants to see the ending of the movie, but then she leaves for our cabin and I’m alone with the kids. But they’re safe with me. Safe  _ from _ me. I would never touch them. Not like  _ that. _ I would never harm a child, intentionally or otherwise. And like this, surrounded by a dozen eyes ready to bear witness, I know they’re even safer than if I were checking on them alone in their tents. All those little breathing bodies a barrier from my own perverse thoughts. 

Even on those nights when Dolph waits until everyone is asleep and crawls into my bag with me I do nothing but lie next to him, whispering made up stories against his temple that are nothing but rehashed episodes of the  _ Care Bears _ until he falls asleep.

The wind is picking up. It’s not quite six and already the sky seems as dark as late dusk, the clouds looming like the ceiling of a pillow fort, soft and fluffy and low. My hand moves on its own, touching the window, feeling the condensation. When I pull back my palm is wet, cold. I rub my fingers against my palm to wipe away the moisture. Thunder growls in the distance. Something touches my leg and look down to see Dolph there, his tiny fingers curled around the chunk of my sweatpant bottoms. His sleeping bag is still rolled up under his arm.

“You scared of the rain, Dolph?” I ask him softly, not wanting to call attention to his predicament.

His voice is a little softer than usual.  “Not the rain, the lightning.”

I touch his shoulder. He’s shivering but the movement stops beneath my hand.

“Go set up your bed in the middle of the others, that way you’ll be far from the windows.” I ruffle his hair. It’s thin and silken as if somebody had dyed cornsilk black and glued it to the head of a small child. Dolph releases my leg and joins the others.

As a small, impressionable child I had one evening caught some old show in technicolor on the television that had featured a Middle Eastern man with his harem of concubines. The harem had been kept in a spacious room with white marble steps and clinking beads hanging from the ceiling. On the floor had been a myriad of cushions and mattresses and silken blankets in beautiful vivid colors. That’s what I think of now when I turn to look at my campers. The space directly in front of the television is packed tight with blankets and pillows of various colors and textures. The sleeping bags criss-cross and turn and intersect into a makeshift quilt that leaves less than an inch between one camper’s personal space and another’s.

Dolph worms his way in between them, excusing himself, polite but persistent. He settles down in the exact center as I had advised him, looking impossibly small compared to the others. He’s discrete as he moves in, nudging his own space into creation.

Not all of the sleeping bags are currently occupied. Some of the kids are sitting on them, some already zipped up inside. Pillows are clutched to chests in preparation of the scares ahead. The cacophony of a handful of children talking loudly is more than would be expected for their number. And they’re not even all here. Some of them are finishing up last minute chores. Bathroom breaks. Brushing teeth. Nurf disappears for a while then comes back wearing glasses, threatening to punch Preston when he asks if he normally wears contacts.

“Many high-class gentlemen still wear glasses, I’ll have you know.”

“Come on guys,” I call, breaking up the squabble before it can evolve into a full-on fight. I step up behind them, towering over them as they sit on the floor. “Preston, why don’t you move your blanket over there next to Nerris.”

Nurf always seems to find his way beside Preston on these nights. Even if Preston joins the crowd after Nurf, laying his own bedroll down somewhere far away from the bully, by the end of the night Nurf has squeezed his way through the crowd so he can sit beside the other, more flamboyant boy. I try to keep an eye on them, put a stop to Nurf’s pinchings and shoulder-punches, but sometimes he’s so persistent.

Besides, I do have to fit in some time for actual sleep. If I can I’ll try to fit in a nap sometime tomorrow in the late morning, allowing Gwen to lead the kids on her own, but I can’t expect her to take over for a full eight hours. She doesn’t have the patience to deal with some of the kids that long. I get the feeling she doesn’t really like children that much.

I lay my own sleeping bag down on the floor, putting some distance between myself and the to kids but still close enough to watch the television. I make sure I’m between all of my campers and the door. I don’t know why but I always have this implausible fear that something will come crashing through the door if I’m not there to stop it. Bear, wolves, chainsaw-wielding maniac.

Maybe we need to take a break from the horror movies.

Once I confirm all the kids have made it into the cabin I sit down on one of the cafeteria chairs and unlace my hiking boots. I’m in for the night. The boots are the last part of my uniform to be removed and now it’s a sweatpants and t-shirt night for me. And slippers. Max makes fun of my bunny slippers but who here has nice warm feet and who has to deal with chilly little toes?

Gosh, I hope his toes don’t really get chilly though. Max always keeps his socks on but socks are so thin. They’re not even hiking socks! Maybe I should pick him up a pair of slippers next time I’m in town. Not fuzzy bunnies but something boys these days like. What do boys these days like? Pokemon? Would he wear Pikachu slippers?

The image of Max in a pair of Pikachu slippers, with matching PJs, maybe sucking his thumb, makes my face go warm. It’s a perverted fantasy and it’s a stupid fantasy because Max wouldn’t be caught dead in Pokemon pajamas let alone sucking his thumb.

I need to stop fixating on Max. I know this and it’s something I tell myself multiple times a day. He’s cute in his pajamas but he’s ten. And they’re all cute in their pajamas. Kids can be cute without being hot, okay David? Nerris is wearing some sort of elf pajamas, soft but patterned as if she were wearing a tunic and tights. Very fitting and very cute. Dolph has footie pajamas with a hood that flips over to show a fox head, though he normally keeps this down. Also very cute. But, I have to admit, the way a little girl is cute and the way a little boy is cute is different for me in a way that it isn’t for most people. 

Most of the other campers are less extravagant in their choice of sleepwear than Nerris or Dolph. It’s always particularly jarring to see Preston and Harrison in simple pajama bottoms, given their propensity towards dressier clothing. Harrison, in particular, clad in only a tank top instead of his usual vest always turns my head.

Don’t get me wrong. Harrison’s normal outfit, with his tight, well-cut pants and his form-fitting vest, is very attractive to me. He’s an extremely cute kid with an impeccable fashion sense. I often find myself wanting to touch that little area beneath his vest, to wrap my fingers around his skinny waist, right under his ribs, just to feel him breathing through that silken dress shirt.

But a tanktop? Pretty little bare arms, perfect for kissing and biting?

I hate myself for having those feelings for this boy.

But they’re incomparable to those for Max.

Max doesn’t need a change in outfit to be enticing. He isn’t some Barbie doll that you need to keep dressing up to keep interested. He’s...gosh. How do I describe somebody like Max? He’s delicate yet boyish. Tiny but with the heart of a wild beast. Soft except his words are sharp as daggers. He’s such an odd combination of purity and vulgarity that I often find myself unsure if I want to protect him or quarantine him from the other campers to keep them safe from his obscenities.

He seems even smaller on nights like this. Sweatpants, rather than pajama bottoms, and just the stock yellow Camp Camp t-shirt. He mirrors my own choice in sleep clothes but the way he wears them exudes a sense of uncaring nonchalance that only Ered can rival. But without his signature hoodie, there's just something more vulnerable about Max. It's not just that he looks smaller, slimmer without the poofy fabric, but I think it's also that more of him is fully exposed. Arms paler than his face due to their constant concealment from the rays of the sun. The delicate bones of his collar standing out. The hidden expanse that is the back of his neck inviting. It's as if the hoodie serves as a form of armor for Max. An armor he only seems to remove when he sleeps.

“David,” Nerris calls out, catching my attention. But she says it in a way that I think it might not have been the first time she called out my name. “I forgot my floss.”

“It’s raining, Nerris,” I tell the girl, glancing out the window just to confirm my statement. As if it might just be a million tiny pebbles falling on the cabin rather than water. “You can skip flossing for one night.”

“But my orthodontist says-”

“You can floss first thing in the morning,” I promise her, smiling encouragingly. “Right after breakfast, okay? I don’t think your orthodontist would want you out in this rain just so you can floss.”

She doesn’t seem to believe me but she also doesn’t seem particularly excited about the prospect of facing the growing storm outside. Even less so when Gwen chooses that moment to break through the door. She’s wearing a transparent rain poncho but her face is still wet and the hair peeking out beneath the hood is dripping. She throws the hood back and rakes her fingers through her hair, yelling, “I haven’t been this wet since I went to see Freddy versus Jason!”

“Gwen!” I admonish, but I don’t even know why I’m even surprised to hear her make that proclamation in front of the kids. She never bothers to keep that sort of stuff to herself. I’m just happy most of the kids won’t have any idea what she’s talking about.

"Got the movies!" she calls out, grinning despite the water running down her temples. Movie night is one of the few activities she shows any enthusiasm towards. She claims it's an opportunity to "educate the youth" on the "true classics."

She holds out a thick DVD box with the words  _ Child’s Play Trilogy  _ printed on the front in a bold red font. God, I hope this isn't too much for the kids. Gwen claims it's for the best, to desensitize the kids early on rather than let them turn into weaklings "like the rest of their generation," but I don't know. I remember being terrified of that doll as a child. Chucky gave me nightmares for weeks and I couldn't stand to be alone with any of my sister's baby dolls in an empty room for years.

But a few of the kids catch sight of the box and cheer so there’s not much I can do besides excuse myself to go make the popcorn. I’m glad for a moment of peace now that Glen is here to keep an eye on them, the image of thumb-sucking Max is now so deeply implanted in my mind that only a killer doll will be able to dislodge it.

The kids must go through a pound of popcorn every week. I swear, popcorn is like crack for children, they just shove it into their mouthfuls by the handful. It’s terrifying, honestly, how easy it is to choke on the stuff. I’ve had to give the Heimlich to more than one kid over the years. But what is movie night without popcorn? It’s especially camp-appropriate given that it’s an old Native American food. I taught them the history of it, once, but none of them seemed that interested in hearing about ancient preparation techniques while stringing popcorn chains. What a shame.

They were even less interested in hearing about the nutritional value of popcorn. It’s a great snack for kids, despite the choking hazard. Light, sugar-free, and most importantly, cheap. Way cheaper than s’mores or chips. But maybe we will do s’mores tonight as well if I get around to making that fire. I’m still drawn on whether or not I want to bother. If the storm ends up passing quickly a fire may just make the room feel unbearably stuffy and overheated. Which could lead to unzipped sleeping bags, maybe removed shirts. Flat, skinny chests and concave stomachs fully exposed as the moonlight washed over them through the windows.

As if there would be any moonlight tonight, with all those clouds. I make a tight fist, digging my nails into my palm for a moment. Centering myself with the spike of pain. Trying to repress both those inappropriate thoughts and the erection forming in the baggy crotch of my gray sweatpants.

Digging the old popcorn maker out of its spot on the top shelf, I get to popping some corn. Knowing from experience that it’s going to take a while, I set a large bowl beneath it to catch the kernels and go to get the juice ready. It’s from concentrate so I need to mix it with water but it’s tasty, low sugar, and infused with vegetable juices. None of the kids know about the last two, I just tell them it’s tropical punch and they enjoy it without realizing that they’re drinking something healthy.

Except, tonight, when I go to the freezer to retrieve the frozen canisters they’re not there.

“Huh,” I murmur aloud. I ordered some on the weekly food delivery, didn’t I? I know I must have, I wouldn’t forget such an essential. Maybe Quartermaster shoved them into the back of the freezer. Reaching in, I start rummaging through frozen peas and hamburger, looking for the juice. I know I ordered it. I just know it.

Unless I ordered twice the amount of morning orange juice on accident?

“Juice is ready.”

The voice coming from behind me, so sudden, sends a shriek spilling out from somewhere deep in my gut. My elbow bangs against the freezer door as I spin around, heart in my throat. I grab at my elbow, feeling it throb.

Quartermaster is standing behind me, holding my normal punchbowl between his hand and hook. There’s not a single drop of water on him.

Where has he been hiding?

“You, you made the juice?” I ask, confused. Quartermaster never joins in on movie night.

“Yup.” He’s still holding out the punchbowl, face blank and emotionless as ever.

“Oh, thank you,” I say, still feeling confused by this development but not wanting to hurt his feelings. I glance at the juice. It’s swirling in the basin, looking vaguely foggy, as if maybe he didn’t stir it quite enough. “It looks great. Did you want to watch the movie with us tonight?”

“Nope.”

I frown before I can help myself, trying to think of something to say to the other employee, but nothing is coming to mind. Before I blurt out anything stupid the older man has deposited the heavy bowl in my and is drifting away towards the pantry. He must have been up in the attic. 

Maybe he just got caught in the cafeteria after dinner, doing the dishes, and didn’t want to venture outside in the rain. Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. If he wants to sleep alone in the attic instead of taking part in movie night I’m not going to blame him. Like Gwen, he doesn’t seem super fond of kids.

I have a feeling I might have difficulty sleeping tonight, however, knowing he’s up there. I don’t know why but I have this image in my head of him kneeling on the floor, looking down at us all through a knot in the wood. Reminiscent of the shower scene in _ Psycho. _

Again, we need to try watching something besides horror movies. I’m a big fan of the  _ Toy Story  _ trilogy. I wonder if the kids like Pixar.

Gwen already has the paper cups ready, arranged in two lines of five. As soon as I set down the punch bowl she starts pouring the red-orange liquid into the cups with a ladle, leaving a generous portion of empty space on top. These cups are so easy to squeeze and overflow. But they’re made of 100% recycled paper.

“If you spill this again you’re going to be wiping it up with your face,” she tells Space Kid, handing him an exceptionally empty looking cup. The boy, as optimistic as ever, gives her a salute with his free hand.

I still don’t understand how Space Kid managed to get the punch into the laserdisc player a few weeks back.

We serve the popcorn up in communal bowls. They’re large with wide rims, easy for three or so kids to share without having to take turns grabbing handfuls. Max, Neil, and Nikki share one bowl. Preston, Nurf, and Dolph a second. Nerris, Ered, and Harrison a third. Space Kid gets his own because nobody likes to share with him, he wipes his nose a lot when he doesn’t have his helmet on. I think he may have allergies. 

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Gwen says before I even open the DVD case. Surprising me. She rarely leaves before the movie has actually started. She enjoys watching the kids scream at the first jump scare of each film and loves watching them squirm and watch the tense and/or gory moments between their fingers. I think she might have some sadistic tendencies.

“Already?” I ask her, disappointed. Then I feel bad about the drop in my voice. I don’t want to guilt trip her. “I thought you loved these movies?”

“I do but, David, I’ve seen them like a hundred times. And there’s a man I met on the hypertrichosis forum waiting for me on Skype.”

"Hypertrichosis?" I start to ask, but Gwen already has her hood pulled up. When she opens the door it slams against the wall as the wind gusts in. At that moment thunder cracks and my head snaps toward the door, illuminated by a flash of lightning. I expect there to be a shadowy, vaguely-human figure standing there but there is nothing but an empty doorway. The smell of rain, of wet dirt and leaves, permeates the cabin in seconds. Some of the kids shiver.

I hurry after her, locking the door securely once she’s gone. My heart is thumping in my chest. Something about the howling wind brings goosebumps up along my arms. The sudden stillness drops the panic into my stomach and I feel like I can breathe.

Why am I so jittery today? I don’t usually react to storms like this. 

I turn back towards the kids, planting a smile on my face. There’s nothing to worry about and I need to reassure the kids. They look at me from below, holding their juice cups between little fingers.

“Who’s ready for a move?” I ask jovially. A couple of them call out “Me!” and a couple more hold up their hands.

All three of the DVDs are in the case. I carefully remove the first one and slip it into the DVD player. The selection screen flashes on.

“Does anybody need to use the bathroom before we start?” I look over the crowd of children. Nikki shoves a handful of popcorn in her mouth. Preston whines and tries to wiggle away from Nurf’s pinching fingers. Max, not even looking towards me, reaches between his legs and adjusts himself. It’s just a couple seconds, a discrete movement of a young boy just trying to make himself comfortable. My eyes hyperfocus on the newly exposed little bulge there and-

Suddenly I’m having trouble breathing. 

I spin around and play with the remote. My hands are shaking and it takes me longer than it should to select the original theatrical release. The remote clatters as I set it back on the stand.

I nearly trip over my own feet as I stumble over to my own bag. I just need to sit down, cross my legs beneath me where I can conceal that dirty part of myself, and wait for it to go down.

Don’t think about what you just saw, David. Don’t think about Max’s little fingers touching himself down there.

Dear God, his little bulge was so visible. So tiny but so obvious. He’s probably not even wearing underwear. Nothing but a thin layer of cotton sweatpants between his palm and what must surely be a pair of cute, hairless little balls. They’d probably feel like silk beneath my fingertips.

Maybe if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with these sinful thoughts I would have noticed something was wrong sooner.

I hate myself so much for not noticing it. I hate myself for thinking these things about a boy like Max. He’s so young and so broken and he’s just starting to trust me. It feels like a betrayal to have these thoughts about him. As if I was raping him by just looking at him. As if he’s nothing but an object put on this planet for my enjoyment which is so, so wrong.

But even worse than having these thoughts I let these thoughts get in the way of my job. I let them get in the way of protecting my charges. That is my one job at this camp. Moreso than making sure the kids have fun and learn something, I have to keep them safe.

Dolph and Nikki have already fallen asleep by the time I look over to check on the kids. I’m not saying that the kids never fall asleep early, sometimes they’re tired out from a day of fun activities, but Nikki isn’t usually one of the early sleepers. And she hasn’t even laid down, she’s just leaning against Neil, her cheek against his arm, eyes closed.

Neil is barely awake himself. His eyes half-lidded, blinking slowly.

My eyes dart around just in time to see Harrison fall onto his side. His body thumps on the ground but his eyes remain closed, breathing even.

I jump to my feet. Behind me, I can hear the laughter of an evil doll. Looming music plays.

“Kids?” I ask, my voice squeaking. I wait for them to look at me. Only Nurf and Max do and their movement is slow, sluggish. Their look at me as if I were a giant talking hot dog.

Preston slumps against Nurf. The larger boy makes a disgusted noise and shoves Preston away from him with a half-hearted effort. The other boy falls back onto his pillow, undisturbed.

“Nerris?” I cry out, grabbing for the girl. She’s the closest to me and I shake her, trying to wake her. Her head snaps back in my arms. A snore comes from her parted lips. I let her fall back onto the pillow, wincing as she falls like dead weight. That was foolish of me to just let go of her like that. I could have hurt her.

I try Dolph next, then Preston. Nurf has fallen asleep now as well. He’s lying half on top of Preston by the time I check on the aspiring actor. 

Only one child is still awake.

Max’s vibrant green eyes look up at me, clearly confused. When he speaks, his voice comes out slurred and frightened, oddly rasp. 

“David.”

“Max!” 

I reach for him as his eyes close. He falls against my chest and my arms go around him, my fingers entwining in his black curls. He feels extremely hot.

“What is going on?” I cry, voice breaking, surrounding by nearly a dozen unconscious little bodies.

“What’s wrong, David? You didn’t want to try the punch?”

My eyes dart upwards towards the door that leads to the kitchen. Towards the pantry. Towards the attic. I see a flash of white shirt and blond hair.

And then something hits me hard against the back of the head.  
  



	2. The Babydook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max tries to figure out what's going on and how to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally_Friendly_Max_Content here. I wrote this chapter and am really excited to see how you react to my different writing style. (We agree stuff before hand then write our chapters separately before editing them together.) I really enjoy writing with Alcoholic_Kangaroo and this is a fun fic to write.

Fog.  The first thing I see is fog.  Though with the hard wooden floor, it feels like I must be inside so clearly it can’t be actual fog.  I rub my eyes and try to focus but clearly it isn’t good enough. I try looking around again but I still have no idea what’s going on.  My head is pounding too.

“It takes a few minutes.”  That sounds like Nikki. Does she know what’s going on?  What happened? All I remember is drinking some juice then trying to feel better about myself.  I saw David getting wacked around the head. It think it was Daniel. I remember a man with blonde hair and white clothes behind David.  It fits Daniel’s character too. Yeah, it’s obviously Daniel, but I doubt he’s working alone. There must be someone helping him. Were we betrayed?  I close my eyes and instead of trying to see what’s going on I listen.  I think others are trying to wake up too. They’re moving around with frustration.  There’s light footsteps around. I’ve never memorized the footsteps of each and every camper but somehow these steps seem different.  They’re getting closer. I wonder what they are. Either two kids walking behind each other or… I hear a barking sound followed by a scream.  Preston I think. Either that or David. It’s certainly a girly scream anyway. I open my eyes and everything is clearer. There’s a four legged creature walking around but it’s still a little foggy.  None of the girls are uncool enough to scream at a mere dog though.

The fog finally disappears, but my head still feels like the brain is trying to squeeze itself out of my head in slow and pained increments.  I look around. The scream must have come from Preston. We’re still in the cabin we were in last night but we’ve been tossed into a corner. There’s some gates around us but they’re flimsy.  I could probably tip them over with ease but if I did, it would attract the attention of the dogs. They’re big, dark, brown dogs but I can’t tell the breed. Maybe some sort of crossbreed. All teeth and no cuteness.  On one of the three, I can see a scar over an eye and it looks infected. The dog doesn’t seem to give a shit. It’s just walking around the outside of our enclosure.

Nikki asks, “You think I could beat that dog in a fight?  I think I could.” I love this girl and her confidence. I don’t even want to touch those dogs.  Still she is tougher than most girls though.

I have seen her doing some impressive things.  Just because, the dog is big, muscled and drooling, I don’t see why she should lose.  She’s beaten wolves before. Dogs are nothing in comparison to wolves and there’s only three of these things.  “Yeah. Let’s show Daniel what you’re made of.”

Nikki jumps over the little fence with ease and charges towards the nearest dog with her teeth bared.  The dog growls standing its ground. Clearly it has no idea how powerful Nikki is.  The girl wraps her hands around the dog’s neck ready to squeeze and bite. Then she’s tossed aside.  She screams. The dog runs over and I see its head move back with a kick. The dog then grips hold of the leg with his teeth.  He keeps a hold of Nikki biting deep. She keeps trying to kick the teeth away with her other leg but it’s doing nothing. Then I hear a loud crack.  She’s let go but only because the dog is after her neck. She scampers back, her leg flopping behind her as she does. Nurf helps pull her back behind the fence.  She’s crying defeated.

That ended as quickly as it began and Nikki lost.  Nikki didn’t win. Nikki didn’t even make more impact than a little kick.  She is hurt.

I should go try and help her.  She’s hurt. How did it end up like this?  I crawl over and look at her leg. The bone is broken.  She’s hurt. I just can’t can’t over that. There’s a series of cuts where the teeth went in.  It looks painful and she’ll need a stick or something to hold the leg in place. I ask, “anyone got a stick on them?”  There’s a brief chatter but no one has anything we can do to help.  If only there was some water to at least get the injury clean.

My throat is dry.  When did I last drink?  I don’t even know what time it is.  If I can get some water I’ll get better ideas in my mind.

What did David say in First Aid Camp?  The first year here. This year was just ‘Bon Bon waaaaa Bon Bon’.  Fucking hell. I haven’t got time to waste on thoughts like this. This is just awful.  Why did I assume Nikki could win?

Preston speaks up, “I’m scared.”

Fucking really?  I snap, “You think we’re all not scared.  I’m fucking terrified. Nice of you to confirm you’re not a complete idiot!”  Preston starts crying. It’s pathetic but not remotely shocking. I wonder if I can collect those tears and wash Nikki’s wound with them.  Probably not. Even if he cried enough, he’d let snot get in the tears. Despite how fancy he presents himself he drools in his sleep.

It’s fucking gross.

Finally someone says something more useful.  Nerris asks, “What will happen to us?”

I don’t know.  I’m not saying anything until I’m closer to an escape or to making Nikki feel better.  These comments are all embarrassingly useless and just stressing the constant banding.

Neil says, “I’m sure we’ll see who did this to us soon.  We’ll have to get them monologuing. That’ll give us a way to escape.”

Nurf says, “I’ll take Nikki on my back.  I can carry her since I’m the strongest.”

Neil disagrees, “We’ll need you to fight.  Max should carry Nikki. He should also be the one to get our bad guy to start talking.”

Preston says, “I think I can do that.  I am after all an actor.”

I guess it’s time for to point out the obvious flaw.  “Why are you assuming that whoever did this is a complete idiot?  Why are you assuming they’re acting alone?” No plans until we know more.  “Keep a clear mind.”

I try looking again for water.

I then hear some non child voices.  I whisper, “Quiet” and the others go quiet.  The non child voice is male. I’ve heard it before.  I don’t know where. It’s low. I want to get closer but that dog is looking at me.  I’m sure it’s just my paranoia but it feels like it’s looking right at me, ready to attack.  I dare not get any closer. I still have no idea who was talking.

The voice is gone.  We hear a shrill laugh.  I can see the others shaking but I’m not scared.  Not yet anyway. Whoever did this didn’t act alone.  At least we know that now.  There must be at least a man and a woman.

With no more signs, I feel lost.  I whisper, “What do they want with us?”

“They’re going to kill us.”  Preston is a sobbing mess. If I wasn’t so scared, it’d be hilarious.  “They’re going to kill us slowly and painfully one by one.” Well, that would explain why they haven’t done it already.

I’d better be honest.  “They probably want us alive.”  We’ll probably be their slaves or some shit.  That is if we don’t escape first. Maybe I should chance it with the dogs.  It’s not like I have much to live for if we do escape as a group.

Neil says, “You sure know a lot.”

“I’m just figuring out the obvious, Neil.  I don’t know why this is happening. I want to know where Gwen and David are and why we’re here too!”

Neil looks confused.  “That’s a point. Where are Gwen and David?”

David?  He’ll be trying to save us.  Gwen. My guess is dead. Died as she lived.  Useless. 

The door opens.  No one enters. The tension is killing me.  Everyone’s eyes must be trained on that door.  I wish I could look away, but I can’t. The room suddenly feels a little more cold.  Was it just the wind? I don’t believe it. I wait, my eyes trained on the door. After what feels like an age, a woman dressed all in white enters with a young girl behind here.  She scans us with her eyes then, talks to the girl, “Pet, go and grab me a water bottle.”

“Yes, Master.”  Called it! If I was laughing it would be bitter.  She runs off.

The women then picks up Harrison.  “Strip.”

“No.”  Harrison crosses his arms and pouts.  He isn’t going to strip. Let’s see where this goes.

“Strip, brat.”  When he doesn’t she starts shaking him.  “Disobedience will not be tolerated.” Harrison remains firm.  If he lasts much longer, he’ll start to be admirable. “I said strip.”

Harrison removes his gloves.  She smirks at how he’s doing it.  I don’t get it. It’s not like he’s doing a striptease for her.  Maybe she’s not a pedo and just wants to see his muscle or some shit.  He keeps removing his clothes and soon he’s naked. I don’t understand what she’s after.  She throws him back with the rest of us.

When her girl returns, she takes the bottle and says, “You may use this for your friend’s leg.  Nothing else though.” Then they leave.

What the hell?

Harrison tries putting his clothes back on but some of them are over the edge.  He’s left in just his tank top, and underwear. I can see he’s shaken, but he’s holding back the tears.  I should say something but I’m not going to risk starting to cry. If I cry, I’ll have everyone crying and we’ll be a mess and end up not trying to escape.

Nerris makes her way over and gives him a hug.  I never thought I’d see the day.

The dog walks around our enclosure again.

This is nothing I can’t deal with.  I’m stronger than the others. I take out the water and start washing Nikki’s cuts, getting the slobber out, then working on cooling it down.  If nothing else I can get Nikki a bit better. I look at her peaceful face. She must have fallen asleep or blacked out from pain. Same difference

When the cuts are clean, I look at the bone.  Maybe I can use the bottle as a stick and use it to keep the bone straight.  I remove my T shirt and give it a go. It’s really not working but it’s the best idea I had in my mind.  If anything it’s just a T shirt wrapped around Nikki’s leg and covered in her blood. 

The door opens again.  In walks Daniel. I can’t say I’m shocked.  Fucking git would be behind this. Okay, I’ve defeated him once before.  All I have to do is… how did we defeat him last time? I think it happened by accident.

I ask, “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”  I’m ignored. Daniel instead looks over Nerris before tossing her aside.  Soon his eyes go to Ered. Is she good cult material? I doubt it.

Daniel says, “You’re all very cute.  I suppose you’re wondering why I have you here.”

I can make a guess.  It looks like everyone is pretty much thinking that.  “You want us in your cult.”

“Nope.  Your value is far more than that.”

Nurf grins and asks, “It is?”  So much for standing with us and being our muscles.

Daniel seems to reconsider.  What I don’t know. “Yes. Every one of you has been chosen for the pleasure and purification of the higher members of my order.”

Nurf says, “Will this allow you to convert more people?”

“It will grant us the power to convert more people.  We need a source of purity to combat the dark toxins we must work through to protect people from themselves.”

“And that source is Xemug?”

“In a way, yes.  Xemug has put his purity in all living beings.  As people grow they lose their purity and we must take that purity back.”

I reply, “So you kill them and eat that purity.”

Daniel laughs, “We used to but we found a far more fun and effective way of getting the purity.”

Nurf asks, “You and who?”

Daniel just laughs.  He leans down to pet Nurf’s hair in a way I’m tempted to call affectionate.  Maybe too affectionate. Maybe not enough. Maybe Daniel’s just playing with my head.

Am I just waiting for the blaring ‘Nurf is going to betray you’ lights to come on?  It’s going to happen. I should know by now that hoping is worthless. What do I want to happen?  For David to walk in, punch Daniel’s face and for the dog to disappear into itself. That won’t happen.  The most I can hope for is to survive this.

This is the one thing I hold true.

Nurf asks, “Are there lots of you?”

Wasn’t that something I had asked before?

Daniel replies, “Plenty” as though it’s nothing.  Then again, it isn’t. Plenty is relative as Neil would put it and I don’t know the scale.  Maybe that’s the point and it’s not plenty on any normal scale at all.

Daniel changes the topic with, “Nurf, line all your friends up from the most to the least pure.  Most pure over there and least over there.” Nurf instantly begins. Does he have a hard on for this cultis-  Oh my fuck. He probably does. He is at least gay after all. The whole Chris thing. What did Neil say about that?  Why wasn’t I listening? Oh yeah. I was focusing more on putting ants in David’s food. That plan didn’t even go anywhere.  He didn’t even notice the ants. Nurf puts me into the impure corner without a thought.  He puts Space Kid in the other corner. Then he starts struggling.  He grabs Ered and puts her next to Space Kid. Then he places Nerris next to me.  Well, that’s just needlessly confusing. Nerris should be next to Ered. She’s not remotely cool, but she is sweet.  Sickeningly in fact. Then Nurf seems to change his mind swapping Nerris and Ered over. He turns to Daniel and smiles.

I shout, “Shit, Nurf this is shitty even for you.”  Quit the psychological torture.

He just laughs and I can see him line us up.  He puts Nikki too close to me, but other than that I can’t say I disagree with his final choices.  Daniel smiles but he switches Nikki to be closer to Space Kid even more so. I don’t get it. Then he says, “Nurf, you may place yourself as the most pure.  I will be keeping an eye on you.”

Disgusting.

Daniel then picks me up.  “Such an impure child should not be allowed to infect the others.”  He takes me outside and strips my clothing before eyeing me up and down.  “Are you a virgin?”

A virgin?  “What’s that?”

“You ever made love to anyone before?”

“Made love?”

Daniel slaps me then asks, “You ever had sex?”

Oh.  I’d better stretch this out.  I don’t like where these questions are going.  “Sex?”

He slaps me again.  “You ever fucked anyone?”  He saw past the lie. I know it.

Him swearing just seems so wrong.  “What’s it to you?”

“Answering will show how much you deserve to live.”  He laughs. He keeps laughing. I hate it. I don’t want this level of control over my life.

I mutter, “I’ve never fucked anyone.”

Daniel looks me over, lifting up my arms, my cock, splitting apart my butt cheeks.  “And has anyone… penetrated you?”

“No.”

“Not even David?”

Ew.  “No!”

“Not even with your mouth?”

What?  Do you mean like a kiss?  Why is he assuming I’m doing anything like this with David of all people?

Daniel slaps me again.  I try to grab my clothes but he keeps his grip on me.  “Have you sucked David’s penis?”

“No.  What’s up with these perverted questions?  I’m ten!”

“There has to be some explanation for why you’re so full of dark toxins.  Do your parents touch you?”

“No.”

“Do they make you touch them?”

“No.”

Are you going to ask me why I think I have issues?  Daniel doesn’t. Instead he brings me over his lap and starts fiddling with my mouth.  If I had any cum in there it would be long gone. Idiot. “So toxic and your teeth imply a decent diet too.”

What is he expecting to find?  Chilli plants on my lips? Still cum?  Cavities? Nah, that last one is too dumb.  He’s never implied before that candy or shitty parenting makes a child less pure.  Though it’s not like I ever got to know him that well. I was more focused on the whole ‘is he going to try to kill me?’ element of his character.  It could be something new. No, he laid out his purification diet perfectly. The main thing he asked for was bland.

“Sharp though.  Nice and sharp.”  He doesn’t let me speak, instead continuing to mess with my mouth.  I bring my nice sharp teeth down and he doesn’t react. Guess I’m no Nikki.  Though he should at least be doing something. I try pushing down harder and he asks, “When are you going to tire of that?”  I release Daniel’s hand. He looks at it. “You didn’t draw blood?”

“Did you want me to?”

“Your jaw must be weak.  Your teeth are sharp enough after all.”   He then adds something weird. Notably weird.  “Shame really or you would make a good bitch.”

A good bitch?  Is that whore or dog?  Whores are supposed to have bad teeth I think.  Not British teeth bad but not super sharp. I think.  Dad got pissed at me if I watched his ‘adult videos’ as he called them.  So does he mean he wanted to turn me into a dog? A female dog too? I don’t want to say he can’t but that’s a little out there though I was unable to place the breed that dog was earlier.  This is maddening.

That’s the point.  Keep it together.

Daniel says, “I don’t see why David has been raving about you.”  It’s like he’s trying to prove that he’s just trying to send me nuts.  “After you sent Nikki out and all. Yes Max. I know about that.”

“You do?”

“Yes, though considering the amount of betrayal going on amongst your friends it didn’t surprise me.”

I know David would never hurt me.

I wish Neil was here.  He was good for keeping me sane.  There is no way Daniel is planning on turning me into a dog.  There is also no way that David has betrayed us. Only Nurf will betray us and only Nurf has betrayed us.

Daniel picks me up and puts me in a cage not big enough to stand up in.  He then picks up the small cage. As it swings on the handle, I’m once again made aware that there’s little room to move.  I keep on coming up against the sides as he walks around. He takes the cage into what used to be the counselor's cabin and puts it in a corner.  Then he leaves, leaving me naked in a cage with my own thoughts. The cabin has been stripped bare and a pentagram painted on the floor with dark red paint.  Surprising that Daniel didn’t go for bright red to make me think it would be blood. It’s dark in here. Wonder where they put everyone’s crap. It’s probably burning.  I sniff. No fire. Fire is how I would have dealt with things.

I hear a scream.  I have no idea who it is.

More screams.  I rattle against the bars of my cage.  My friends are in trouble. I need to protect or at least do something for them.  I can’t get out. I let out a whine before trying to use my head, my teeth, anything to get at least a little more free.  I won’t give up on my friends. Nikki is hurt. They took me away because they knew I was the biggest risk. I have to get away.

I wait.  It’s starting to rain again.  I guess I can at least be glad that David isn’t here.  I don’t know how but he always makes the rain feel even wetter and more pathetic than usual.  It’s like he has to describe every single drop. I don’t really get it.

Where is David?  What could Daniel have done with him?  Is he safe? What if Daniel has sacrificed him to his stupid god?  Or gods. If David is alive, how can I communicate with him? It would be best to work with him if we’re to get out of here.

No point in focusing that.  I can’t rely on David coming and saving me.  It was pure luck that he was able to last time.  Even with my head pounding, I need to rely on myself.

Where is Gwen?  That’s even more hopeless.  I need to save myself.

I will just wear myself out rattling the cage.  I have to think. I look around. There’s nothing to use.  I can’t wait for help. That scream could have been anyone and I’m not able to help.  I feel my eyes tear up. I know crying will make this worse but I can’t help it.

I’m soon finding myself leaning helplessly against the cage bars.  It’s hopeless. I won’t sleep but I must rest. Rest until something can be done.

Daniel enters with Nurf.  Nurf doesn’t look at me and instead they talk in hushed voices.  I have no idea what they’re saying. I try to strain my ears for information but it doesn’t help.  I know Nurf is going to betray me anyway so what’s the fucking point?

Then David walks in.  I call out, “David, get me out of here!”  He walks over to Daniel. I wait for him to deck him one.  He doesn’t. Why isn’t he punching the bastard? That’s the best way to defeat him.  I’d be punching him if I was as strong as David and out of this fucking cage. “David!  Help me!” I beg despite it being clearly pointless. Nurf laughs. He’s laughing at me.  I know he is.

Well, fuck him.  I know what Daniel will mess up and when he does I’ll be ready.  I’m not going to go nuts just yet.

Daniel says to David, “You may talk to the impure one for a bit.”  David nods and walks over to me. Each step feels wrong. I can’t place it.  There’s still that happy lightness he always has. There’s a look on his face that’s firm, but in a more annoyingly stubborn than usual.  He’s always stubborn but this time it’s like there’s a reasoning.

David says, “Hey Max.  I know this is all scary but you’ll be okay.  I promise.”

I open my mouth but Daniel opens up my cage and I stop.  He grabs hold of my throat anyway. “Don’t even think about talking unless I give you permission.”  I glare at him. I try to pull him away but I can’t.

“Max calm down.  I’ll keep you safe, I promise.  I can do that now. Now that Daniel has shown me the way.”  I shake. David then smiles this sickly sweet smile. “Trust me.”  I look into his eyes and imagine myself being hypnotised. Yet, he has no power over me.  I have no idea what to make of him. He just looks sad behind his smile. If I dare speak, maybe I can get through to him.

I croak out, “Punch him.”  The hand around my throat grips it a little more tightly.

David shakes his head.  He then continues, as though this was a normal day, “I’m going to do lots of things to purify you.  You’re going to be so much better, I promise.”

I’d believe you a lot more if you were punching Daniel.  Quit trying to make it out like being in this cult will protect me.

“Would you like Mr Honey Nuts?”

Daniel releases his grip.  He turns to David. “How would that increase his purity?”

David says, though I think it might be a question.  “It would hardly make things worse.” So is this a recent development?  It would have to be. When did he betray us? Last week? Last month. Keep it together.  Watch and discover.

The cult leader replies, “You have a lot to learn.”  He then looks at me, eyeing my flesh. I know I’ve let myself down but I don’t know how.  I try to cover my body. “That said, I see no harm but in return, I won’t let you talk to the other campers.”

Like they would want to see that you’ve done this to them.

David is pondering the question.  I can see it in his eyes. “I’ll give Max the bear.”

“Good choice.”  Daniel pats David’s back and David grins at him like… like how he used to at Mr Campbell whenever he did something he thought would please the rich bastard.  Only this time, instead of a rich bastard it’s just a cult bastard.

Daniel pulls his loose hand away, then shuts the cage shut.  They leave the hut. They’ll be back soon. I won’t let my fears get to me this time.  Daniel will be bound to open the cage again. His movements are fast but if I’m ready with my feet I may be able to jump out.  Then I can out run David. Daniel will be harder. If I can just reach the forest it’ll be easier to use cover to get away. If not, than at least I’ll be able to grab my clothes.  If not than at least I’ll have done something. That’s better than I can say for Nurf.

David and Daniel return.  Nurf blocks the exit. I won’t be able to get my clothes.  New plan.  I look at David.  Daniel unlocks and holds onto the cage opening.  “Be quick about giving him the bear.” David slides Mr Honey Nuts past the thinnest opening Daniel dare give.  I know it’s pathetic but I just hug onto my bear. My precious teddy feels so good in my arms. I want to hug him for the rest of my life.

The cage is locked again.

David says, “See, this has really brought out his pure side.  Is there a more wholesome sight?” Maybe he is trying to protect me and the cult shit is just a phrase.  I can get through to him. I offer him a smile. He smiles back and it feels like despite everything we can still connect.  “I think I can bring out his purity. I know there’s not much but what’s there should be preserved.”

“You don’t have much to offer yourself, Davey.”

“Don’t call him that!”  The cage is picked up and tossed to the floor.  Why did I speak? Because he called David Davey?  That was wrong. David is no mere child. He’s three times the adult Daniel is.  But that doesn’t matter.

I cry into myself.  It doesn’t matter.

David picks up my cage but makes no attempt to open it.  It’s too sturdy for hopes that tossing it from David’s grip will smash it.  I grip hold of Mr Honey Nuts. Together we can survive this. As David puts the cage in the right position I know that that’s why he gave me my bear.  I can keep my mind in check.

Can’t I, Mr Honey Nuts?

That is truly possible Max.  With me, you are a lot stronger and you can get out of here in very little time.  Now you have someone to communicate with you can debate ideas with me and delete the bad ones.  Best of all that villain Daniel won’t know that we’re talking because he can’t read minds. He’ll think that you’re just a normal kid playing with a normal teddy bear.  You won’t have to fear bad ideas being sad out loud like you would if Neil was here instead.

Yes, that’s right.

Daniel says, “Don’t you have something to say to David, Max?”

“I wasn’t aware I was allowed to speak.”

“You may thank him for bringing you your bear.”

“Thank you, David.”  David smiles and I can’t help but feel a little better.  He brought me the very thing I needed. I was letting my fears drive me crazy.  Daniel turning me into a dog. What was I thinking? Clearly he was just getting to me.  He’ll keep saying random shit but I won’t fool for it. I know what he’s doing. It’s the same trick horror movies use when they don’t show you the monster.

That’s right.  You’ve seen this before.

David says, “You’re welcome, Max.”  It’s nice how he says my name like it’s the sweetest thing.

Then just like that David is lead away.  He’ll be back though and this time I’ll have a plan to get out.  Mr Honey Nuts and I will take him with us.

Before I get a chance to think Daniel is back.  He brings in a dog and lets it loose inside. He then walks up to my cage.  “You don’t like the dog do you?”

I’d better reply.  “No, I don’t.”

“Behave and I’ll place the dog elsewhere.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Stop escaping for a start.  Also agree to further purification and prove that it’s working.”

I can fake that.  “Sure.”

“In that case, I’ll let you have a drink.  Don’t think a single ‘sure’ will prove anything to me though.”  He places one of those hamster bottles on the side of my cage. I drink.  It might be poisoned. Dying of poison will be quicker and less painful than dying of thirst.  Yeah, this is a good idea. This thing’s a total pain to use. Every time I get a bit of water more spills splashing down as it does.  This is disgusting.

“You should be showing your gratitude.”

Just a few more glups.

The cage opens.  Daniel pulls me forward and places his hands around my neck.  He squeezes and squeezes and squeezes.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this isn't quite up to my usual standards, I haven't written first person in years and I'm rusty.


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